


Dogs of War: Side Story

by rallamajoop



Series: Dogs of War series [2]
Category: Cable and Deadpool
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Evil Overlord, M/M, Seriously confused consent issues, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rallamajoop/pseuds/rallamajoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The missing scene between War and Deadpool, fitting in between chapters 5 and 6 of <i>Let Slip The Dogs Of War</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dogs of War: Side Story

**Author's Note:**

> Excluded from the main story so as not to ruin the big reveal in chapter 7. Probably not going to make a whole lot of sense out of context.
> 
> (A shame the 'penetra **i** tor' gag was already done in the comic, it would have fit in nicely here.)

As War's fortress loomed closer, any passing nerves Wade might have experienced earlier were more than overruled with the happy certainty that this was going to be the easiest mission _ever_. Throw himself (heh) at an undefeatable. foe, screw up, get caught, get 'punished' for running away – mission accomplished! Why couldn't every job he'd ever taken be so easy he could hardly think of a single thing that could go wrong?

...Well, except the possibility he'd slip up and spill the whole plan to War. Right, note to self: no slipping up and spilling the whole plan. Giving himself away by being a little too eager about the whole sex thing was probably out too, so lots of token struggling, maybe a bit of girly screaming – the whole pre-ravished-for-your-convenience Mills 'n Boon-heroine dinner and show. Or would that be going too far? Nah, War _liked_ a bit of struggling and screaming. Shame he hadn't brought a skirt to wear, there was nothing like the right costume to get you in the _mood_.

Then there was the possibility that War would take punishing Wade as a cue to go on another of his I'll-show-you-how-much-you-want-this flings with extended orgasm denial. Or one of his look-what-I-can-do-without-even-touching-you (suuuure, like telekinesis _didn't count_ ) flings – and either of those could easily go on well after the few hours he had before his healing factor cleaned the virus out of his system completely. Hm. Would it make a difference if he gave in and begged right away, or would that just encourage him?

Right: struggling, followed by screaming, followed by begging. May have been some bodice-ripping in there somewhere. Crap, this was getting complicated, should he be writing this down?

One way or another, at least he could count on War jumping his sexy little arse the moment he showed up. If there was one upside to being a sexy victim of evil – apart from the being kept alive while the rest of the world burned and the great sex – it was _great_ for your self-image. Something about going as bad as War gave the guy a total inability to keep it in his pants.

Unless one of those few desperate bands of rebels just happened to choose right now to attack the fortress and cause royal mayhem until War threw them all out...

So, only about half a dozen ways this could go horribly wrong. That he'd thought of off the top of his head. Nothing to worry about at all.

The fortress loomed closer, in that blackened, spiky, fortress-y way it had.

What the hell, you only ruined the mood to these things by over-planning. All he had to do was sneak in, do a passable impression of a real assassin, stuff up, and get caught by War. He could improvise from there.

Moving right along to deal with that first order of business: the front door was closer, and not even all that heavily guarded from what he could see, but this was more of a back door sort of job. (Badum-ching!) Back door it was.

Skittering from one rubble pile to the next for cover, Wade made his way around the fortress, humming a few bars of the X-Files theme on the way. Not for any particular reason, just because he felt like humming the X-Files theme.

He was most of the way around before it occurred to him to wonder whether War would even _have_ a back door. Would he need one? Did doom fortresses made from bits of old space stations get produce deliveries? He was pretty sure they didn't have backyards. On the other hand, if you had a lot of evil scientists playing with chemicals in the basement and rebels breaking in every other week, you could never have too many emergency exits. Or was following occupational health and safety regulations just not _evil_ enough?

Wade blamed the public education system. They never taught you any of the stuff you needed to know out in the real world.

If there was one thing he did know from every spy movie ever made, it was that places like this _always_ had conveniently man-sized ventilation systems. With exits that looked like big rusty pipes like... like that one over there! Perfect! Unless it was a laundry chute, or a sewerage pipe, or one of those mechanical exhaust pipes that sprayed out a batch of superheated toxic gas every half hour, but Wade found it was always less stressful to focus on all the fun hijinks he could have finding out.

The entrance to the pipe was a good three metres off the ground, but that wasn't a problem for the Goddamn Deadpool. A couple of paces of run-up, and Wade had launched himself straight up into the opening.

It took a second longer for it to dawn on Wade that he didn't seem to have made it to the ventilation duct. In fact, he didn't seem to be moving at all. To all intents and purposes, what appeared to be happening was that he was floating in mid air.

Even with Wade's somewhat tenuous grasp of physics, this didn't seem right. Golly gosh, now who did he know who could pull a trick like this?

Huh. Getting caught was turning out to be even easier than he'd expected.

After letting him struggle for a few seconds more, invisible forces whipped him around and flung him against the side of the building, then held him there, spread-eagled. The momentary impression of a few fluffy yellow birds circling his head failed to give him any serious trouble identifying the person floating up in front of him.

"Waaaaar! Whoa, what are the odds? I was totally just thinking about you!" Wade struggled a bit, mostly just by habit. "You really _did_ have security footage of the ventilation ducts? I thought I was making that up!"

War looked furious – though that was pretty much his default state, unless you counted 'smug and oversexed' – and 'furious' on War tended to mean hovering debris and enough gratuitous lightning effects to keep the whole SFX department pulling an all-nighter. That could only mean he was still more mad at Wade for escaping than he was feeling smug about recapturing him so easily.

Wow, he was _so_ getting the lecture about staying out past curfew.

"You have more balls than I gave you credit for, coming back here like this, Wade," War thundered, looming over him in a way Wade had to admit he maybe found just a _little_ bit sexy, though mostly it just promised a world of pain before they got to any of the good bits.

"Two of 'em, one on each side. If you keep forgetting it would explain a _lot_ about our relationship." Wade struggled some more and panted a bit. "Think you might have your teke grip on a setting too high right now, it's a little on the side of _tight_ – "

The grip tightened, with a focus on his throat that left him spluttering and gasping to breathe.

"Aha, okay. Of course you meant to do that all along," he corrected himself quickly, when he could talk again. "Sorry. Carry on then."

"All those months trying to escape, and when you finally do, this is what you do with your freedom?" War growled. "What are you doing here? And before you answer, think _carefully_ , because it would be a _great_ mistake to imagine – even for a moment – that I'd believe you foolish enough to break in here unless you _wanted to be caught_."

...oh _fuck_. This had not been on his list of things that could go horribly wrong.

"Um. No?" he squeaked.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than that, Wade."

" _No_ I didn't think you were stupid enough to think I was stupid enough to do something this stupid...?" Wade babbled, despite a strong hunch that a mere full sentence answer didn't have much hope of satisfying War now. "This is so not fair, the Avengers totally bought it!"

"I would think I know you a _little_ better than the Avengers do."

"Ooh, we're talking the biblical kind of 'know'?"

The telekinetic grip tightened hard enough to bruise bone.

Through the pain, Wade heard War say, "It would not be wise to try my patience." Well _duh_ – no shit Sherlock. Would it have killed him to bring that up a second earlier?

"Y'know, I was really thinking you were gonna be happier to see me," Wade complained. Ungrateful bastard. See if he made himself this easy to catch _next_ time he got away.

...and wow, if _that_ wasn't a self-defeating thought. C'mon, Wade, focus! There had to be a way he could spin this.

"If there is one truth that has become very clear to me since Apocalypse freed my mind," said War, "it is that _no-one_ in this world does anything of consequence without benefit to themselves. How does your capture benefit _you_ , Wade? Is this some foolish attempt to distract me? Did you imagine you could lead me into a trap?"

"You mean the one you just walked into?" The sight of War's eyes widening ranked up there with the best comedic victories of Wade's career. "Hah! I had you going there a minute! Admit it!"

"WADE!"

All these attempts to buy time to think up a new story by making War mad at him would be working a lot better if he didn't keep completely losing his train of thought under all the excruciating pain.

"... _really_ thinking you'd have figured it out by now," Wade heard himself mutter, as his breath came back to him.

War hesitated. " _Enlighten_ me then. What should I have 'figured out'?"

Good question. Wish he knew the answer.

"Well, think about it," he threw out, madly hoping to figure out where he was going with this before he got there. "Why _would_ I want you catching me?"

" _Other_ than as part of a trap or a distraction?"

"If you expect _me_ to be that obvious. The thing is, Nate, you're thinking about it all wrong. Didn't you even stop to think, _what if he's not thinking of it like it's about getting captured_ , huh? What if it's about _coming back?_ "

Right. Of course it was! He was a genius!

The rage on War's face softened into amused fascination. Possibly the kind of what-would-be-the-best-way-to-squash-this-amusing-bug kind of fascination, or does-he-really-think-he-can-get-away-with-this kind of fascination, but it had to be a step in the right direction.

"Kerrr- _ist_ on a South Pacific satellite, Nate," Wade went on, rapidly gaining momentum, "you spend months drilling it into me that I'll get a pat on the head for obedience, then you wonder what I'm up to when it works? Man, that's just _cold_."

"You mean to tell me you came back voluntarily?" Even if War didn't believe him, at least Wade would have the satisfaction of knowing he'd given him a good laugh, "Even for you Wade, this is unexpectedly creative. I suppose next you're going to convince me the Avengers tore you out of my dungeon and spirited you away against your will?"

"Bastards did cut off my hands and feet."

"I know. I have them in _jars_."

"Aw, you kept them? For you that's practically sweet."

"I am getting very tired of your refusal to get to the point, Wade."

"The point," said Wade, ramping up the indignation a couple of points, "is of _course_ I had to make them take me with them! Shit, Nate, you did see the tape, right?"

"Every last second," War assured him. "I can repeat everything you said to them, I warn you _strongly_ against trying to deny a single word of it."

"Great, that's going to save me so much exposition! But like I was saying, of course I went along! How else was I gonna get the chance to stab them in the back and lead you right to them, huh?"

"You'd betray the _Avengers_ ," War sounded utterly fascinated now – skeptical, sure, but flattered all the same, "to me?"

Wade tried to throw his hands up in the air, found them still telekinetically bound, and succeeded only in twitching instead. "Um, _duh?_ You are the first person ever to question whether I could double-cross a bunch of guys – whose team I hardly joined for like _five minutes_ – just 'cause I feel like it. Sheesh, what do you think I am, a guy with integrity?"

"There was another version of me with them," War growled. "I _saw_ the way he looked at you."

Ow, if that didn't go right to the bone. Cable had looked at him like what? Had he been too busy trying to figure out why War was downstairs in his pyjamas to notice? "What, like I needed a hug – an absolutely-not-skeevy-non-threatening-hands-in-safe-places-hug – and a year in therapy to 'work through my trauma'? Nate, I never remembered the old you treating me like a box full of china, but the guy thinks if he breathes on me I'll keel over – wouldn't even hold my stump while my hand grew back. Call me nuts, but that's just not something I see working in a long term relationship."

Wade ploughed on while he still had the opportunity. "Look, Nate, you just _told_ me how not-totally-stupid I am. Those Avengers guys brought all this fancy tech stuff that's supposed to block your TK, but you and I know people here have tried that only, what, a dozen times already? We both know you're gonna wipe the floor with them – just as soon as you _find_ them, and if you could do that without me you would've done it already. All I'm doing is speeding things up."

"Out of the goodness of your heart, I suppose?" War's skepticism wasn't going down without a fight.

"Well, _maybe_ I'm skimming a little off the top. I did make myself clear back there, didn't I? 'Cause this is all about me not having to go back to the cave when this is over. We can negotiate on cable channels and that civilian slaughter thing you're so big on getting me into. I'll even take being tied up sometimes if it gives me a bargaining point, I am just _so over_ that fucking cave you would not even believe – that was like the one thing I _didn't_ lie to the Avengers about. I mean, do you even _want_ me down there? There must be like a million stairs between you and nookie. This way everyone wins!"

"Except your Avengers, obviously."

"They're not _my_ Avengers!" Wade protested. "Have _they_ been chained up in a cave for months? I don't owe them squat!"

There was a pause while War processed the story, and Wade built himself up for his next burst. "And exactly how long do you expect them to take to notice you're gone?" War asked.

"They know I'm gone." Best to keep the story as close to the truth as he could make it, gave him better odds of keeping it all straight. "I talked them into letting me do recon to find a good way in. They know I'm the only one you can't scan with your mind, so they bought the whole plan."

War was looking at him with a kind of contained wonder now. Wade pressed impatiently on.

"It's like I keep saying, Nate, _who do I have to kill before you let me out of there?_ A couple o' dozen crazed resistance cell members – who were totally not even any fun to kill, just so you know – weren't enough for you. And I _couldn't_ do anyone else because you haven't let me off the leash since! Fuck, Nate, you think I'm a tough guy to break? I can't even _find_ my conscience most mornings. You've had me in that cave forever – I'm probably ready to sell my soul for a TV and a back rub."

And if that didn't do it then Wade was in big trouble, because he was rapidly running out of material. Not to mention more than a little freaked out about where he was even getting most of this stuff from.

Come to think of it, was War hovering closer than he was a minute ago?

Oh.

There was a fine line, sometimes, between being punched in the face and being kissed by War in a possessive mood – you had about as much say in both, and similar danger of being left with the kind of bruises you'd have trouble explaining to your co-workers tomorrow, but after the initial shock had worn off, Wade generally had to admit the kissing had a certain something going for it... if you liked having a guy pretty much trying to tattoo his initials on to your tonsils. Which was something Wade tended to change his mind on a lot, depending on his mood. Today, it felt a heck of a lot like raw, undiluted _victory_.

War drew back, one hand stroking over the underside of Wade's jaw, holding his face up to meet War's eyes. "I'd say," he breathed, eyes shining with lust, "I can get you a better deal for your soul than that."

Ha! And to think his high school drama teacher had only given him a C for improv! Take _that_ , Mr _Makes-No-Effort-Can't-Get-Into-Character-See-Me-After-Class!_

"Oh thank _fuck_ ," he panted, with depressingly real sincerity. "You were making me seriously worry you weren't even going to..."

War kissed him again, which was a very good thing because it saved him from having to come up with an end of that sentence that wasn't 'buy this crap'.

This time it stayed relatively pleasant for all of about twenty seconds before War started pressing a little too close and Wade broke off with a yelp.

"Uh. War. _Armour_. Not as comfy on the outside."

War floated back about a quarter of an inch, not at all apologetic. "How long before the Avengers will be expecting you back?"

"Didn't really give me a deadline. Few hours?"

From War's expression this was definitely the right answer. "Then we have time to _celebrate_ properly," he said, voice promising all manner of X-rated things.

"Ooh, we're gonna have a party?"

"Yes, Wade," War smirked. "I think we will."

Wade felt himself being pulled upwards, War hovering mere inches away, one hand still resting on his throat, the other clutching possessively at his side. Looking around he spotted an opening in the roof that looked to be their destination. Oh, that figured – _flier_ , right. He should have realised the back door would be in the roof.

"You have no idea, Wade, how long I've waited for this day," said War, as they floated down into the building below.

"Oh, it's always all about _you_ , isn't it?" Wade grumbled. "What about _me?_ I was the one waiting in a fucking cave the whole time!"

"You'll get over it." Hallways flickered past them, largely metallic and featureless. "For the goal of remaking you in my image, no exertion would have been in vain. The day will come when you _thank_ me for my magnanimity in showing you the light."

There were depths even ooh-take-me-now-your-evilness!Wade was not going to sink to. "Uhh, y'know what, in the interests in getting me laid sometime this week, let's just agree to disagree on that one for now, huh?"

"A day will come," War repeated, as they floated into an elaborately furnished bedroom (Wade tried not to look too closely at most of the décor in case it took the edge off the mood. The four-poster double-bed with _black sheets_ was as much as he needed to see). "We have all the time in the world."

The most unnerving thing about War was always that under everything else, there was still this undercurrent in his voice and face that did such a good job of passing for genuine warmth and affection that Wade didn't know what else to call it. What with all the panic over inventing a new cover story on the fly, followed by the incredible glow of achievement that he'd gotten this thing off the ground (not to mention the distracting things War managed to do to Wade's nether regions no matter how hard he fought it), it wasn't until War was right up to the point of undressing him that it dawned on Wade: he was about to have what passed as _consensual sex_ with _War_.

Except for that little detail where one of them was secretly only consenting so he could get close enough to infect the other with a tactical STD. Wade wasn't quite sure what that did to the 'consent' status, but he was pretty sure it wasn't good. He had a horrible sinking feeling that if anyone was the rape-ee in this scenario, it wasn't him...

Heck, it wasn't more than what War deserved, considering everything he'd done to his prisoner over the last six months – let alone everyone and everything else in the world. So why was there still that one little corner of his mind that wouldn't shut up about what a lousy bastard he was being? It would make it a lot easier if stupid War would just stop looking so damn _happy_ about his latest conquest.

Stripping Wade took no more than a few seconds of telekinetic effort. "Truly Wade, you cannot even imagine how much pleasure it gives me," War declared, "to think that when I crush the last of the resistance of this pitiful world beneath my heel, it will be with you at my side."

...or if he just kept talking like that, actually. Something about the 'crushing the world beneath his heel' part was a real fuzzy-mood killer.

There was no time wasted waiting for War to get his armour out of the way either – a couple of loud, metallic clicks to mark something obscure and telekinetic going on, and every piece pretty much fell off into a pile. There was probably a big red button hidden on it somewhere, Wade imagined. Labelled 'emergency exit'.

Wade snickered to himself as a telekinetic nudge pressed him back against the sheets – unusually gently by War's usual standards. War followed him down, eyes raking hungrily up and down Wade's body as he loomed closer.

At least he wasn't in any danger of giving himself away by not getting hard on cue, Wade thought, feeling light-headed as War's mouth staked its claim deep into the skin below his jaw and _damn_ , how did he always manage to forget just how good War was at pushing his buttons when he was in the mood? _Definitely_ didn't need to worry about his reaction being convincing as he began to shiver and pant, War moving to extend his claim down every inch of his body (and it should _not_ be possible for anyone to spend that long on one spot and still be such a total fucking tease about it), mouth tracing a trail of fire over his chest. 'Every inch of his body' wasn't even an exaggeration with War – what he couldn't get to with his mouth and two hands was free game to be lovingly stroked by least a dozen invisible extras – he would've had a hard time picking where the real hands even _were_.

Okay, that was maybe a bit of a lie – the sensation of real, metal fingers stroking up and down his cock was pretty difficult to mistake, hard as he might try not to notice it (a panic attack would be really not productive right about now). The T.O. arm had been so much more of a turn-on back before he'd experienced first-hand what it was like to have bones crushed between its fingers. Wade might've been confident today's session wasn't going to go that way, but there were parts of his nervous system down in his lower spine somewhere that were a _lot_ closer to those abused nerves, and they weren't buying it.

It figured that even after he'd finally turned in his damn consent form, War would still find a way to make this all about making him feel helpless. Which he really wouldn't have minded nearly so much if it had been just a feeling and not so much of a fact.

Considering that in the past War had displayed no qualms about disabling him telekinetically and using him as what amounted to little more than a flesh and blood sex toy when the mood took him, it took a couple of minutes for it even to dawn on Wade that for probably the first time ever, his own hands were actually _free_. He lifted and flexed them both in amazement, rather like a man who'd just woken up with three more fingers than he knew what to do with.

War smirked, sensing his confusion. "Never let it be said my promise of rewards for good behaviour was in vain."

Near-meaningless as two free hands against an overpowered telekinetic might be, this was War showing he _trusted Wade_. Why hello again, unwanted sense of residual guilt. Didn't we change the locks after the last time you came past?

"You want me to tango too?" Wade blurted. Oh, now that was great, when half his mental faculties were still convinced that _breathing_ without War's explicit permission was something he'd regret, and the other half was telling him he so didn't want to be here at all. "Wow. Uh. Just. Been so long, I'm trying to remember the steps..."

It was a really, _really_ good thing that willing!Wade had good reason to be just about as uncomfortable figuring out what to do with this as the real one was.

War rubbed his shoulder gently, which actually did manage to be reassuring, wonder of wonders. "I am willing to be patient on that front. For today, I have a more... defined role in mind for you."

"...not the kind that involves playing dress-up?"

War's smile widened. "This is an important occasion, Wade. I feel the need to do something _special_ to mark it."

Wade was still trying to guess what on earth _that_ might mean as War rolled them over, switching their positions. If he wanted Wade to top, it usually meant being sat down on War's cock and telekinetically restricted from moving in any but a very limited set of directions (generally 'up' and 'down') while War watched him like a predator and waited to see how long it took Deadpool to give in. Being aroused to just about to the point of pain and denied release could inspire a guy to agree do a _lot_ of things he'd deny wanting both before _and_ after the event, and that would make him feel even more used than usual in the morning. It took a special kind of creativity to fuck with a guy's head like War could. If that was what he wanted now Deadpool was willing, there was some sense to it – or just poetic irony, he didn't really know which – but he could work with it. Probably.

"What kind of special?" he asked, to see if his suspicions would be confirmed.

"In all the time we've been together," War pronounced, settling Wade between his legs, "I've not yet experienced the satisfaction of having you inside me."

Wade's mind dissolved into frantic punctuation. War, the original Mister-Sex-Is-About-Showing-You-Who-You-Belong-To, wanted him to _what?_

"You... you want _me_ to...?!" _Typical_ – after all this time, here was Nate _still_ finding new ways to blow his mind. Damn you, War, he'd been using those brain cells! Well, some of them. He'd definitely be wanting the rest of them later.

"Yes, Wade." The metal hand traced the line of his hip, making him twitch in ways that weren't entirely about arousal. "Why so surprised?"

"But you never... you always..."

"Of course. This particular pleasure," (aaaaand back to his erection goes the scary hand again, and if he had to ask War to repeat the rest of this twice more before he got it he was going to have no-one to blame by himself), "is one I've saved until the day your stubborn reluctance would finally be overcome. Until I felt you able to satisfy me."

How the _fuck_ , thought Wade, did War get away with saying these things _without_ it sounding like week old cheese fermenting under a stack of 80's porn and bad harlequin romance novels? It must have been the evil thing. You'd get all the practice you needed on lines like, 'I shall grind your worthless body into the earth' – and even if you it took you a few tries to get the elocution down on the day, you wouldn't have to worry about anyone living to tell about.

More importantly, this was putting Wade in a really awkward position. And not just in the physical sense.

War raised an eyebrow, sensing his uncertainty. "More reluctance, Wade? I would have thought after all your protests, this would be exactly the change in routine you craved."

"I might just have been exaggerating how I didn't like the routine a little bit much back there," Wade squeaked. "You're... _you_ and I'm me and-"

"...and you know a little too well the standards I hold you to," War concluded. "Do not fear. I have no intent to let you disappoint me. I want to feel you – feel how much you've learned to _want_ this."

Wade swallowed. Someone up there was probably getting a real kick out of just how, even with the imagination of a paranoid schizophrenic on acid, he'd so miserably failed to come up with _any_ of the things that were actually going to go wrong with his foolproof plan. He chalked this down under 'complaints to be levelled with _extreme_ prejudice' next time he stopped by the lofty offices of the editorial department, and tried to get his mind back on the problem at hand.

What was it his drama teacher had been trying to tell him, in all those lessons where he'd spent most of his attention surreptitiously oogling the cleavage of the girl in the next seat rather than on the teacher? Something about finding the little part of you that _did_ want what your character wanted? He was going to have to find it fast, or War was going to find it for him. Or find out it wasn't there, which was... which was really not something he could afford.

It _would_ be hard to picture War going out of his way to make himself look any more... _inviting_. So what was really the harder job here, making himself believe part of him wanted this, or seriously convincing himself none of him did? (Because ever since he'd convinced War he wanted this, there'd been that tiny little voice in the back of his head saying, well, look at the bright side, say the virus doesn't work now, we won't be going back to the cave. It was a voice that scared the rest of him almost more than War did.)

Okay, definitely over-thinking this. He couldn't seriously pretend it was _that_ hard to find the part of him that wanted this: that would be that bit _down there_ – the bit War was telekinetically smearing with lube ( _nnngh_ , btw) while simultaneously _opening himself up_ for Wade with more of the same. Wade was only human. It was not his fault if every part of him below the belt found this incredibly hot.

War watched Wade watching him, a lazy smile spreading over his face. The metal hand trailed its way up his side, around to the back of his neck and pulled him over War's body, and in for another of those bruising kisses.

" _Now_ ," War breathed against his lips, and Wade took a deep breath, stopped thinking altogether, and thrust himself into War, all in one fast movement.

Just like ripping off a bandaid, right? A really fucking tight, hot bandaid that took approximately half a second to register as just maybe the best fucking bandaid ever.

...wow, sex _really_ took the edge of his ability to come up with metaphors that made any fucking sense whatsoever.

"Mm." War watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, utterly at ease. Good to know _one_ of them was still in a state to play designated driver here. "That's it, Wade," he instructed, "Now _move_."

Wade didn't need to be told twice.

Once he'd gotten that far, it really wasn't that hard. It wasn't like there was any rocket science involved in the mechanics – he _had_ done this before. Not with a hot telekinetic cyborg supervillain, maybe, but that didn't really affect the principle of the thing. It didn't take long to find a rhythm War seemed pleased with, if his increasingly ragged noises of encouragement were anything to go by. It was a little bit mindblowing just how much control War was letting him have in this arrangement – at the least he'd been expecting a lot more 'nudges' to get him up to the pace War wanted.

He was completely not expecting the sudden, none-too-gentle push on his own prostate at _all_.

Wade did not moan. The noise he made was more reminiscent of someone trying to eject their own vocal cords _backwards_. He thrust so hard into War it wouldn't have been a surprise if he'd reached _his_ vocal cords, while his spine tried to arch in about three different directions at once. He may, very seriously, have just pulled out at least six vertebrae. He didn't _care_.

_Holy shit_. He was fucking an evil madman who was also psychically fucking _him_. If he didn't live through this (which might be a very real danger) he could at least count on dying happier than his few remaining non-blown brain cells knew what to do with.

War laughed, warm and throaty. "Still so surprised. Don't imagine I don't want to see you enjoy this. Perhaps you still don't realise how pleased you've made me, but I mean to _show_ you," he said, massaging that spot inside Wade more gently, "I mean to go on showing you for a _very. Long. Time_."

It was a very good thing War's other habits included keeping draconian control over the state of his balls or this would have been over really fast. Wade made a token attempt at making a list of things he was supposed to hate about War, but after five tries losing track of item one, put the whole thing off till later.

This was once again officially the best plan _ever_. Except for all the million ways it wasn't, and _that_ was something he was going to spent the next blissful however long this took _not caring about_. When every part of his head that had given up evolving less than a million years ago still thought War was the hottest piece of arse left in this reality, it was even surprisingly easy.

...Well. _Equal_ hottest. _Almost_ equal hottest. Attainability in his favour, fondness for mind games kind of standard, addiction to torture against him. Wasn't it amazing the things you lost all will to keep yourself from thinking about when you were balls-deep in their identical clone?

And every time he remembered the things he'd said to War outside about Cable, he spent at least a minute worrying about whether he was really sure there was no way Cable been listening to him say it, and how he'd go about explaining that he'd hardly meant a word. He'd had enough trouble just making Cable believe Wade wasn't holding any of this as his fault (like there was anyone who _didn't_ have an evil double out there somewhere) – though Wade would happily take apologies in the form of sexual favours if Cable was intent on making it up to him.

In a world blessed or cursed with _two_ Nathan Summers simultaneously, how much did it bite that it was _this_ one he had to have fantastic sex with to save the world? Especially when it was probably the last chance he was ever going to get to have any kind of sex with either of them, if all went well.

Couldn't be a good idea to let himself get his hopes up about getting to go home with alternate-Cable when this was over either. Odds were he had his own Deadpool waiting for him (though if Wade ever got to meet alternate-Wade, he had a good mind to give himself a good kick in the nuts for letting his Cable go traipsing around other worlds without coming along to keep an eye on him). Damn alternate-Wade had _better_ be appreciating alternate-Cable. The idiot probably didn't even know just how lucky he was.

Wonder if the alternate-Wade could be talked into sharing... Would _he_ be willing to share in the same position?

Wrong question. Right now, he'd have happily leapt at the chance for a two-weeks-a-season time-share arrangement. He wasn't in any kind of position to be picky.

It was also a _really_ good thing there were so many Nates in his life right now, or he was about to get into serious danger of calling out the wrong name...

By the time War finally let him come – or lost the will to stop him in the throws of his own orgasm, who could tell which – it would have taken several minutes for Wade to remember that he _hadn't_ come here just for this. War slumped backwards, humming with contentment, while Wade just flopped where he was, utterly raw inside and out, too out of it to have noticed even if he'd fallen face first on to the floor. Consciousness felt like some kind of glorious punishment.

When War pulled him up the bed on top of him for one more kiss, he wasn't even very surprised to find himself kissing back. He slumped down on War's chest again afterwards, unmoving as he got his breath back, and waited, with no small trepidation, for the self-loathing to set in.

His healing factor stubbornly informed him it had never been hired for situations like _this_ , and it was filing an official complaint.

Somewhere in all that emotional debris he actually managed to fall asleep.

* * *

Deadpool woke to the feeling of War stirring under him.

"Five more minutes, Mum," he grumbled. "Dunwanna go to school today."

"Hm?" War sounded amused.

"'Kay, fine, I don't _have_ to go to school. 'Cuz of how I graduated like a million years ago and moved on to a ripping career as a successful well-compensated establishment provocateur," Wade grumbled. " _Yes_ , I really did graduate, Mr Smug Silence! Not just 'cuz it was the fastest way for them to get rid of me either. Jus' lemme _sleep_ and I'll tell you all about it later."

"I do know how fast you recover, Wade," said War, "You said the Avengers were expecting you back within a few hours?"

Uh-oh.

"Give or take? Why? They're not going anywhere." How long was it supposed to take the virus to kick in? How long had it been, anyway? Asking War if he was feeling funny at all probably wasn't the most subtle thing he could do right now.

"If we keep them waiting so long they have reason to fear you've been captured and interrogated, they well _may_ ," War pointed out.

"Sure, but they're not seriously gonna expect me to get back on time either," Wade protested desperately.

"Perhaps not. But think what a surprise it will be when you come back _early_."

Uh-oh the second. " _Now?_ "

"Is that reluctance in your voice, Wade?"

"You don't want to maybe have a bit more sex first?" Wade said hopefully.

War chuckled, deep in his throat. " _After_. Trust me, Wade, we'll have all the time in the world."

In War-speak, that probably translated to 'fuck like bunnies right there before we've even washed the blood off'. Even by Deadpool's standards that was a whole world of _ew_.

Wade wracked his brains for any idea to buy even a little more time.

"Is there something else?" asked War, impatiently, as Wade hit on a minor brainwave.

"Well, kinda. Taking out the Avengers is a pretty special occasion, you wouldn't wanna send me in underdressed, would you? And I don't just mean a new costume: I'm talking _guns. Swords_. Stuff that goes _bang_ when you pull out the pin and lob it at some guy's head. Ooh, how about one of those nice plasma rifle-things you used to lug around? Those were _hot_. I mean, do you _know_ how long it's been since I've had my hands on good weaponry? Euphemisms aside."

From the look on War's face this was very much the right answer. Any version of Nate was guaranteed to have an armoury in his castle somewhere. A really huge one where Wade could waste lots of time picking out weapons he liked. A happily post-coital War might even let him get away with it for a decent long while.

"That," he said, getting to his feet and pulling Wade after him with a glint in his eye, "we can _definitely_ arrange."


End file.
